


The Toussaint Around Her Neck [English]

by saphique



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eight (2018), oceans 8
Genre: Breasts, F/F, Fascination with Breasts, Femslash, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Necklaces, Rophne, Rose is such a lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: An indestructible confidence is forged between them, between hundreds of millions of dollars. They live for this synergy with each parcel of their bodies. They almost manage to feel the impatient appetite of their respective beings. Rose is standing behind Daphne with The Toussaint and she puts it delicately around her neck. The necklace is icy, burning, electrifying, blinding. Its heaviness makes Daphne moan with pleasure, and Rose bites her tongue with incredible force to stop herself from dropping the necklace.





	The Toussaint Around Her Neck [English]

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Toussaint Around Her Neck [français]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895479) by [saphique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique). 



> Because so much smut needs to be written between these two

Even before Debbie and Lou have suggested Daphne Kluger, Rose was ready for anything to have the opportunity to get close to this celebrity. This haughty, bold, sufficient and incredibly attractive woman. Working in the field of fashion is an excellent excuse to swim around women of all kinds. Rose loves to observe them, memorise their details, analyze their posture, dress them and particularly undress them ... with consent, of course, when Rose gathers her courage to initiate the advances. With her kindness, dedication and blatant desire reflecting in her eyes, the women are always eager to agree to sleep with her.

The unforgettable face of Daphne Kruger haunted her dreams for several months now, her reputation only rising. If Rose were a teenager, Daphne's portrait would be pinned to the wall of her bedroom.

Maybe that is the real reason why Rose accepted this diabolical plan to become her stylist.

\---

Daphne is in a state of anxiety. In front of the mirror, they are looking for the dress for the Gala. On Daphne's neck, a horrible temporary imitation of Toussaint made from paper clips and pins. As always, Daphne is resplendent except for herself in this moment of destabilization.

How can Rose not help her? Compliment her? Adulate her? Reassure her? With a protective and admiring dash, Rose gently but eagerly puts her hands over Daphne's shoulders (oh how sweet and creamy her skin is!). Daphne swallows her tears. Rose slips her hands slowly but confidently in her hair, puts her fingers through her hair. She reveals her neck, insists on the beauty of Daphne, designates her exquisiteness, compliments her elegance, reassures her on their choice to garnish this magnificent bust with a work of art richer than some countries. To her own amazement, Rose speaks confidently, articulates clearly and the tone of her voice reveals a passion that is probably a little too voluminous. Her hands do not even sweat, even if she suffers from this weakness and has been embarrassed by it too often.

Rose even dares to admit that her cleavage so often made heads rotate that many torticollis must have been reported to emergencies, all sexes combined. And they look at themselves in the mirror, the chest of Daphne well in front of them and absolutely nothing can hide the obvious: Rose spellbound by her neckline, with appetite and fascination.

This does not seem to scare Daphne, whose cheeks redden. Her breathing is calmed, and a sincere and relieved smile is drawn on her huge, attractive lips. Daphne's eyes, with their irresistible magnetism, directly stare those of Rose - intense and excited. Like a hypnotise, Rose brings her body closer, feels her own chest brush against Daphne's bare back. The wind of her breath tickles Daphne's neck.

They can not remain so indefinitely. Daphne thanks Rose for her kind words. Instantly, the voice of the brunette sends electric shocks directly into the lower belly of Rose who, under the effect of surprise, releases the hair cascading slightly, covering the bust of Daphne.

Rose takes a step away from Daphne and tries with all her might not to bite her nails, rub her thighs, or wet her lips, while they continue their brainstorming. Luckily, Rose is still carrying spare clothes in her bag, or should she say emergency underwear.

\----

Here it is. The Toussaint.

Despite having seen it some time ago, Rose can not contain her exclamation. She could not wait for Daphne to see it, to understand how this historic necklace will ever be the only jewelry worthy enough to fit around her neck. Then, nothing will be up to the memory of The Toussaint hanging down her cleavage.

Daphne is subjugated. Quickly, she moves and sits at her boudoir in front of her mirror. She shudders with all her body. The men protecting the necklace secure it and give Rose permission to lift it.

It is Rose's turn to start a slight anxiety attack while her hands decide, at this moment, to start sweating again. She raises the Toussaint with all the precaution in the world - it is quite heavy - and joins Daphne with a trembling step.

Daphne is in a state of hyperventilation, squirms in her seat while Rose approaches. The brunette makes noises similar to meowing, long moans. She offers her neck, holds her hair, and wait for the arrival of The Toussaint. It seems like an eternity.

The anticipation is so great that her toes twist and her heels press hard against the ground. She moans again, again, again. Oh! Oh! Oh!

Her mouth can not produce saliva because all of her concentration is turned to Rose, her mentor, her protector, the one that was inspired by the value of her breasts able to receive such a jewel. Suddenly, Daphne is so keenly alert to Rose's presence and the necklace that she thinks she's beginning to lose consciousness. Her nostrils spot the scents of perfumes, diamonds and Rose's pheromones.

An indestructible confidence is forged between them, between hundreds of millions of dollars. They live for this synergy with each parcel of their bodies. They almost manage to feel the impatient appetite of their respective beings.

Rose is standing behind Daphne with The Toussaint and she puts it delicately around her neck. The necklace is icy, burning, electrifying, blinding ... Its heaviness makes Daphne moan with pleasure, and Rose bits her tongue with incredible force to stop herself from dropping the collar. OH! HA ... HA ... Ahhhh ...

With one hand, Daphne raises her brown hair so that Rose can have better access to her neck. With the tips of her fine fingers, she travels the surface of the necklace, without touching it too much, in order to preserve the mystery, not to transgress the untouchable.

All these noises of gratification, of contentment, prevent Rose from concentrating. All she can perceive is the glittering necklace and Daphne's breasts on which it is resting. Daphne's breathing is so jerky that the jewel seems to float on a raging sea ... It goes up and down at the same rate as Daphne's expirations and inspirations. Rose never saw anything so memorable.

Rose can not breathe anymore. Not only does she hold hundreds of millions of dollars in her hands and a sublime creation of marvellously, priceless, magnificence, but she is also a few millimeters away the most seductive woman of her fantasies.

 _Oh, Daphne ..._ Rose murmurs in spite of herself.

Fortunately, the men who protect the necklace are able to help her tie it up.

Her excitement should disappear as soon as she realizes the following complication: the use of a magnet is the only way to detach the collar. But all this is too much for Rose's reasoning, the burning desire in her lower abdomen is the priority. So, she records with her cellphone the way the man detaches the collar and no longer cares about anything else. Rose asks them to remove the necklace, ends the recording and ask them to leave so that they can focus on the Gala dress.

Without diminishing, Daphne's excitement remains distracting. Her moans are getting deeper and deeper, less and less on the surface. Her heels still press against the floor when the employee gently pulls the collar from her neck. Aaahh ... Ahhhh ...

The men leave with the collar well secured in the protection box and close the door behind them, leaving them alone. From the instant the men left the room, Rose rushes to Daphne, who does not look away from the mirror, admiring her own reflection and the memory of the necklace on her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rose, propelled towards her bare neck. She seems in a trance, shivering, driven.

 _You had the Toussaint_ ... whispers Rose, as if afraid to disturb, afraid to be intrusive. However, her actions show the opposite, as she slips her hands without permission along the bare neck of Daphne. Her palms are boiling, her fingers squeeze along the epidermis as if she were retracing the shadow of the necklace. She leans her head so close to Daphne that her frenzied breathing gives the small, fine hairs of her back a shudder.

 _You gave me the Toussaint_ ... Daphne murmurs with closed eyes, like a prayer, living in the past and anticipating the future where the jewelry will return to lodge itself between her breasts. Daphne clings to her seat, anywhere, no matter how. She seems lacking, empty of something, she seems suffering. Rose's hands fervently grip her neck, retrace her collarbone, massage her shoulders, awakening the little meows of Daphne's mouth.

With passion, Rose puts her lips against the shivering neck, even opens her mouth to kiss the skin of Daphne, while continuing to massage her shoulders. Her wet tongue retraces the position of the necklace and Daphne growls with approval. She encourages her to continue her gestures of possession. She licks the side of her neck, from shoulder to ear, and Daphne moans. She nibbles the back of her ear, Daphne meows.

Daphne lets herself go. She loses control of her body, which is under the influence of Rose's passionate administrations.

Until Rose slides both hands down her sternum, reaching Daphne's voluminous and delectable breasts. Rose's turn to groan as she grabs her breasts, groping them and caressing them at the same time through the fabric of her dressing down.

In the accelerated stage of euphoria, Daphne leans her head against Rose's shoulder and moans against her blonde hair, inhales her perfume and listens to the moans of pleasure of Rose. With each caress, the fabric of her garment slides until it reveals her beautiful naked breast.

Rose, who palms from behind with a mixture of ardor and sweetness the delicious breasts of Daphne, must look in the mirror in order to admire them. As soon as she catches the reflection of their position, Rose must refrain from freezing on the spot because the eroticism is so strong. Daphne hides against her hair, is submissive in front of her, allowing Rose to play with her body as she pleases. Daphne seems almost in pain because of the raw want, not knowing what to do with her hands. She squirms, moans, grimaces with pleasure. _Nnhhh… ghnn... Aaahh… Nnaahh…_ Daphne is so horny, so wet that she fears she'll achieve orgasm in a few seconds.

Rose decides not to be sweet anymore. She nibbles the neck of Daphne who jumps with pleasure, stroking one last time the firm breasts of Daphne before quickly walking over by her side.

Daphne feels this absence of contact with pain. She does not have time to open her eyes before understanding that Rose is getting closer to her, has better access to her breasts from the front. This simple realization makes her shudder. Rose kneels, is now face to face with these naked beauties she treasures with the greatest pleasure. With one hand, Rose palms a breast, pinches the nipple slightly, rolls it between her fingers. The other breast receives her hungry lips. She sucks at the nipple, turns her tongue around it, feasting on wet and sucking. Daphne refrains from screaming, covers her mouth - her wonderful luscious mouth - with one hand while the other does not know where to land. Certainly not on Rose, for fear that it will distract her. Daphne lets herself go, and meanwhile she is getting wetter. She rubs her thighs together, squirm again and again. Rose will never be tired of this, her excitement motivates her again and again, convinced that Daphne will reach orgasm quickly.

Rose is not wrong since Daphne can not hold it back anymore and she slips her hand between her own legs, awkwardly, over her bathrobe because she can not wait any longer. Her fingers press directly on her clit as she masturbates, wildly opening her long legs.

Rose feels the heat that emanates close to her down there and it moistens her excitement. The smell and the notion of what Daphne is doing is making her moan with pleasure. She does not stop her caresses, continues to nibble and lick Daphne's nipple and molest the other breast.

Daphne reaches orgasm after only a few rubs and her whole body stiffens with intensity, she opens her eyes in front of the mirror without being able to see, mouth blissful.

Her cries of pleasure are melodious to Rose's ears. The brunette is calming down, the power of orgasm dissipating. Rose releases Daphne's breasts, trying to regain a normal and less jerky breathing. Her cleavage is soaked with saliva and sweat.

Rose's rosy lips are puffy, pleased and happily tired. Her hair is messy, it looks like a fortunate chaos. Still kneeling in front of Daphne who is gradually recovering energy, Rose looks at her tenderly.

_You had the Toussaint ..._

_You gave me Toussaint ..._


End file.
